


let me be your rock and your hard place (fall between my arms)

by kwritten



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Chronic Pain, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Falling In Love, Female-Centric, Femslash, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Female Character, abuse implied in flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwritten/pseuds/kwritten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gina is kind. Gina is good. Gina is steady. All her life, she thought this made her boring. She made herself as small and quiet as possible. Raven, is the exact opposite of all of these things. She's fire and laughter and shouts in the dark. And Gina wonders, if she were to kiss Raven, if would she become a volcano, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me be your rock and your hard place (fall between my arms)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [semele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/gifts).



> WITNESS ME: Marta owes me. Marta owes me so big. This is all her fault and I'm ANGRY about it so ... remember this day. She owes me.

It’s not exactly that Raven leans in or pulls away, it’s more like a constant thrumming that fills the air around her. Gina’s seen this before, on the Ark, on the Ground… or something like this. A restlessness that can’t be held under the skin but has nowhere to go. 

Raven laughs, she jokes, she plays. She’s the most goddamn playful person around. She’s been here longer, it’s more serious to her and she’s better at pretending it’s a game. 

There’s a slight difference, so slight most people don’t notice, between the hundred and the rest of the Arkers. A sense of _knowing_ that is easy to ignore. 

 

Gina is steady. That is what people say about her. Gina is kind. That’s what people say about her. 

She sounds to her own ears like the most boring person on the Ground. 

She doesn’t want to be steady and kind. She wants to be … something. 

Something worth noticing. 

 

Raven moves like there is a fire inside of her that can’t be put out, that can’t be tamed, that can’t be stopped. Gina has never seen her be still. She watches, and waits, and wonders. _Will this be the moment?_

But she just seems to move faster. 

Gina is steady. Gina is kind. She is not lit with fire. She won’t burn out but no one would know it because she doesn’t shine bright enough to see. 

People call her kind like it is a compliment and not a curse. She doesn’t want to be kind, she wants to be flames licking at their faces. 

“I’ll help,” she says instead. 

“I’ll go,” she volunteers. 

“I got this,” she says, even if she can’t bear any more weight. 

Gina is steady. Gina is kind. Gina is good.

She can’t help it. 

She watches fires burn from far away and fears getting too close.  
(She doesn’t trust what will happen if she catches light.)

 

“You’re too good for him,” she says it like a joke and it makes Gina blink. 

Even if she has no fucking clue what Raven is talking about. 

“Because I am so _kind_?” Gina has never been very good at sarcasm, it doesn’t slip from her lips like it belonged there. She sounds like a wide-eyed child to her own ears.

Raven laughs and they continue working, shoulder rubbing against shoulder. 

Gina wonders what would happen if she reached out and touched her right then, would that energy ebb into her? Would she turn into _something_ after a lifetime of being _good_?

Will a volcano of adjectives spring to life from inside of her and spill out?

She never asks who Raven was talking about, it doesn’t even occur to her. 

Gina is steady.  
Gina is good.  
Gina is kind. 

Gina isn’t the kind of girl you fall for. 

 

Her mother had a soft smile and a hard heart. Her father had a hard smile and a hidden heart. They shouted at each other and they placated her with promises that it would never happen again. She learned to be small and be quiet. 

Gina is steady. Gina is small. Gina is invisible. 

Gina works hard. She shares her rations with her mother when she is sick again. She helps her father with his work and rubs his shoulders when he is tired at the end of the day. 

They say, _be a good girl_ and because it is the only time their eyes don’t skim over her, she makes sure to stay that way. 

They warn, _don’t make trouble_ and her heart beats in her throat.

Gina is steady. Gina is still. Gina is silent. 

 

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Raven jokes. 

Gina tries to think of something witty to say, but she is not witty. “Um…” Gina is a fucking idiot. 

“That’s okay,” Raven winks at her. “Some people don’t know how to shut up.”

Gina is quiet. Gina is kind. Gina is good. 

Gina doesn’t make trouble. 

Gina reaches out her hand and rests it on Raven’s arm, “Be careful today.” She’s going out in the truck again, she’ll laugh and shout and sing and fill the world with sound. Gina wonders if anyone ever told Raven to be quiet. She wonders if it would have mattered. 

Raven’s eyes flick to hers and the smile she gives her is soft, “Never.”

Gina doesn’t doubt that. 

 

Gina is walking through camp at night when Raven comes limping out of Medical, leaning heavily to one side and breathing heavily. 

Gina is good. Gina is kind.  
_Gina wants._

She trots up beside her and slings an arm around Raven’s waist to support her. “Easy, take it easy. You don’t have to be a superhero all the time.”

Raven laughs and there is something painfully bitter about it, “I’m not a superhero.”

She snorts. The good do not take lying lightly. 

Raven slumps into her slightly, a light sigh escaping through her lips. They walk towards Raven’s tent slowly, more slowly than Gina has ever known Raven to move in all the time she’s known her. Once they get there, Raven pulls away gently and unsteadily. 

“Thanks.”

“Of course, no problem,” Gina responds brightly. She turns away and walks to her own tent. 

She examines her arms as if she expects there to be scorch marks there. 

 

Gina is careful.  
Gina is kind.  
Gina is good. 

She quiets herself near Raven, finds reasons to stand beside her, finds reasons to press her shoulder into Raven’s side and take some weight onto her body. Her hands are quiet, but they can be fast. She circles around Raven like a moon, watching carefully for signs of fatigue or pain or stress, and sees only that bright, burning energy like before. 

But when she is near, Raven begins to lean into her, to pass tools into her hands, to quietly nod when she needs something. 

Maybe she’ll never be the volcano, but maybe she can be its instrument. 

Gina is steady. She is everywhere. She learns to anticipate. She watches and learns. 

It’s helpful to be unseen. It’s helping. 

 

“Do you…” Raven’s voice slips away and that’s what makes Gina’s head pop up to look at her. 

“Do I what?”

They’re alone sorting through some equipment, it’s just like any other day. 

The space between them hums with energy, that special brand of fire that signals Raven’s presence. She’s starting to feel selfish, wanting Raven beside her every day, finding a reason to seek her out as much as possible. Being near her feels like being close to uncovering something. Being near her feels like being close to becoming special or helpful or important.

Or maybe she just wants to open up her arms and drink Raven in like sunlight, take all that excess energy for herself and leave nothing for the rest. 

Fill herself up and keep coming back for more. 

Gina, apparently, can be selfish.  
That’s new. 

Gina smiles (Gina is kind, Gina is soft, Gina is good), “Go ahead. You can ask me anything.” 

“Do you know where that wrench is? With the broken handle?” 

Raven is lying. Gina hands her the wrench and thinks nothing of it. 

People lie. 

 

“Don’t get up, I’ll get it,” Gina can tell she’s still hungry and that thrumming in the air, seeping under her skin, is so thick it’s nearly making her dizzy. Raven’s practically vibrating from it. “I want more, anyway.” She doesn’t. She’s never had a big appetite and Raven always eats like it’s her last meal, or like someone is going to take it away at any moment. Gina grabs Raven’s bowl out of her hands before anyone can comment and speeds away to fill it with more stew. 

By the time she returns, only Raven is still sitting at the previously full table and she raises her eyebrows at the single bowl in Gina’s hand. 

“You weren’t hungry,” she smiles. 

“No shit,” slips out of Gina’s mouth.

Raven collapses into laughter and Gina has the grace to smile back. 

 

“Do you think I’m boring?”

Raven is half-hidden under the truck and maybe not being able to see her face is what gives Gina the courage to ask. She sinks down on her knees next to Raven’s half-exposed midriff and considers (briefly) running her finger across Raven’s soft, exposed skin.

“Fuck no,” her voice is muffled, like she’s holding a tool in her mouth again, despite all the times Gina told her not to. Raven slides out and looks up at her, “Miller said something stupid, didn’t he? I can kill him if you want me to.”

“No, no one said anything,” Gina hands her the hose in her hand. “Forget I said it.” 

Raven sits up and lifts her hand, but hesitates inches from Gina’s face and then drops it. “You aren’t forgettable.”

And then she disappears beneath the truck again and starts swearing and banging on something and Gina’s running off to get Jones or Monroe because they generally know what she’s yelling about. 

 

She’s late. 

Well, okay. The whole team is late. Which isn’t entirely unusual, but there’s something gripping her stomach that tells her that something is wrong. 

Monroe pats her on the back and goes to dinner because food is more important than worrying. A few people shoot her curious looks and Gina finds it’s easier than ever to ignore them. 

It is past midnight when they return and she can’t move, can’t move, can’t move. She’s never felt so frozen.

_ WHERE WHERE WHERE  
WHY WHY WHY _

Raven swings out of the truck, she’s laughing at something Monty’s just said, and Gina’s hands curl up into fists at her side. Bellamy slaps Raven on the back and there’s a spark of worry in his eyes which makes Gina feel like something ugly is going to crawl out of her chest, up her throat, and come spilling out of her mouth. Raven trots over to her and wraps her up into a hug, which is so surprising that all Gina can do is wrap her arms around that warm body and stay as still as possible. 

Raven’s weight collapses into Gina’s arms like lead and her mouth is at her ear, “Get me to Abby.”

Gina pulls back slightly, “Let me bring her here.”

“No. _No_. I can get there, just…”

Gina’s eyes meet Bellamy’s over Raven’s shoulder and she’s so mad she could scream and that anger – somehow – is reflected in his eyes. She wraps her arm around Raven’s waist, and Raven’s arm drapes across her shoulders, and they walk slowly to Abby’s tent. 

Gina doesn’t wait for her to be done. She leaves, wanders off, the memory of Raven’s trembling body haunting her every step. 

 

Gina is good. Gina is kind. Gina is quiet. 

She doesn’t make demands. She doesn’t make accusations. 

She doesn’t get angry and she doesn’t hold grudges. She forgives. 

Gina wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

 

“Hey, thanks for…”

“Don’t,” Gina raises her hand to stop Raven’s apology from happening. If she apologizes, then Gina will forgive her and she doesn’t fucking want to, not then not ever. “I can’t always be around to help you pretend that something isn’t wrong. I can’t …” 

_I can’t carry your body to and fro and pretend you aren’t in pain._

“Have you ever wanted something you can’t have?” Raven interrupts. 

The air buzzes between them. 

“Every day,” Gina grinds out, determined to say what she wants to say. Determined to be angry. “I—“

Raven’s lips pressed against hers feel like nothing she expected. 

It feels like silence. 

 

_She moves and moves and moves and moves and if she stops, she’ll scream. She’ll scream and scream and scream and wake the whole world up with her screams. She’ll scream and her voice will raise storms and wars and ancient gods. She moves and moves and moves._

_She can’t stop._

_She can feel the air around her vibrating. She wonders if other people can feel it, too._

_She calls it energy._

_She calls it fire._

_(It’s pain.)_

_It’s in endless supply and she’s drowning in it. She moves and moves and moves and if she stops her tears will cover the whole earth. She’ll cry and cry and cry and her tears will cause another apocalypse and children will tell stories of her and no one will ever know what she cried for. They will say she cried for love, for heartache, for vengeance, she cried out of righteous fury._

_She can’t cry._

_She can feel the smile on her face like a mask. She wonders if other people can see the falseness of it._

_She calls it humor._

_She calls it laughter._

_(It’s pain.)_

_She’s looking for an oasis, looking for silence, looking for peace and all she touches is fire. The whole world is in flames and she’s burning up in it. She’s looking for quiet, for a rock to lay her head down on, for a moment of peace._

_She’s looking for a place to be still._

_She finds it in a girl._

 

Gina is kind. Gina is quiet. Gina is good. 

Gina is steady. 

Gina is still. 

 

They hold hands easily, they were always one step away from intertwining anyway. They smile secret smiles and Gina finds herself making jokes and laughing. They whisper secrets and Gina holds onto them like they are jewels. 

When they kiss, the whole world stops, the buzzing and thrumming and fire ceases to threaten them with implosion and Gina finds a certain sense of strength in that. 

When she kneels between Raven’s legs, she doesn’t catch fire. When she licks at Raven’s skin and hears her moan, she doesn’t explode. There’s no volcano in her heart, there’s an ocean. 

Steady. Expansive. Cold. Strong. 

When they kiss, the whole world goes still.


End file.
